Chapter Text
Near the city of Amiens, in the Occupied Territory of Deutsche-Frankreich...
A biting wind whipped across the landscape, kicking up massive plumes of dust. It swirled and spun and danced across the ground, coating everything within reach under a layer of grime. The sun hung low in the sky, shimmering in the haze. Its ominous red-orange glow cast elongated shadows onto the ground below, baking what little plant life there was left to a crisp. The ruins, not far off, presented themselves as ghostly specters through the smog. Their oblong and jagged edges resembled the teeth of a vicious monster to the untrained eye, but this effect was, of course, just a mirage.
This inhospitable landscape had once been the site of a bustling city, full of life. Millions of people had called this land home for centuries, but now it lay desolate. It looked otherworldly. The remnants of the past civilization - shards of glass, lumps of concrete, rusted metal hulks, and other personal items - were strewn about. A lone figure rooting through it all paid no mind to any of this; her hands deftly dug through mountains of the worthless stuff to find what she was truly there for: scrap metal.
It took practically all of Phoenix’s willpower to not give up. She’d been at it for hours and hours, since the early morning. It now approached dusk, where the arid landscape would transform from a mere inconvenience to a death trap. If it wasn’t the murderous cold chills of the night, then a wild mutant beast would kill her in an instant. The young red fox was running out of time. Is this even worth it? It’s not like I could trade any of this stuff in for money or food, it’s practically worthless, she thought. A bead of sweat rolled down her brow as the late-day heat bore down. Her lifesaving protective clothing trapped heat and made her feel like she was in a smelly, wet greenhouse..
Then Phoenix’s radio crackled to life, garbling some sort of message. She unclasped it from the side of her rucksack, pressing the button on its left side.
“Yeah, I’m here. Come in,” she muttered.
“We need you back here. Rustbucket’s gone into shock again. ETA?”
Phoenix sighed through her nose, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Give me an hour.”
“He might not have an hour, Nix.”
“Half an hour, then. There’s nothing out here, anyway,” Phoenix sulked.
“Got it. We’ll keep him on morphine for now, but it’s running out.”
Phoenix heard a loud groan through her radio and several hushed voices around it. She turned the radio off, unable to bear the sound any longer. It went into her deepest pocket.
I’m coming home, Rusty.
~~~
The imposing structure of Fortress 22 stood before her like an endless wall, stretching for hundreds, maybe thousands, of feet in either direction. As Phoenix approached, the armed guards posted on either side of the gates nodded in recognition, watching her intently as she passed them by and entered the main compound. Nobody said a word.
When Phoenix arrived at the medical wing, it was a scene of pandemonium. A patient occupied almost every bed in the hospital in various states of injury. Some possessed broken limbs—a relatively easy fix—while others sustained shrapnel injuries, burns, deep cuts, and even dismemberments. The room was full of screams and wails and howls of agony; it assaulted Phoenix’s ears relentlessly. She pushed her way through a crowd of curious onlookers to reach the last bed in the second row. In it lay an emaciated figure. Phoenix could see his ribs beneath his thin skin. She could see every vein in his arms and legs, she could even see his lungs expanding and contracting with every shallow breath.
Rusty… what’d they do to you?
“Phoenix! It’s good to see you again!” a voice hailed.
She turned around and hardly had enough time to process the thought before something wrapped her in a big bear hug. She ruffled her gentle attacker’s hair and kissed her on the forehead, holding her close.
“Good to see you too, Cleo. What’s going on?”
“It’s his leg again… The stitches must have burst or something. I thought the doc tightened those three weeks ago! If only I’d stayed by his side a little longer, I could have helped him sooner!”
“It’s not your fault, Cleo. We can fix this. Is he conscious?”
“I don’t know…”
Phoenix set down her rucksack beside the hospital bed and knelt to the same level as the bed occupant’s head. She ran her fingers through his thick, unkempt hair, playing with the prominence-like curls.
“When did he pass out?” she asked, turning her attention to the young girl who had begun to weep during this time.
“Maybe ten… fifteen minutes before you got here. The doctor tried to give him something to eat and drink, thinking that he was hungry, but he didn’t budge… I-is he dead?”
Phoenix placed her ear on her ailing friend’s chest, listening carefully for any sign of life. His heartbeat was extremely weak, beating once almost every two seconds. His chest barely rose at all when he took a breath. He was fading.
“He needs fluids. Find somebody that can administer intravenous medicines and have them come here as fast as they can. Rusty doesn’t have much time.”
Giving a quick salute, Cleo ran off in search of a qualified medical technician, while Phoenix remained bedside. She dozed off soon after, her fingers intertwined with that of her friend in bed.
Hey. Hey, Phoenix. Phoeeeeeenix…
“Pay attention! You can’t get careless out here, not at night…”
Phoenix opened her eyes. Standing beside her was a familiar face, sporting a smug, toothy grin.
It was a clear, starry night, a rarity in their post-apocalyptic world. The soft glow of the moon bathed the ruins of a once-thriving city in an eerie light. Phoenix and Rusty had ventured out on a scavenging mission, a dangerous but necessary task. They moved silently, their footsteps muffled by the layer of dust and debris that covered the streets.
The air was thick with tension, and every creak and rustle made Phoenix's heart race. But Rustbucket, the red wolf with a grin that could melt even the coldest heart, always had a way of easing her fears.
As they carefully approached an old grocery store, they spotted a group of feral mutants scavenging for food. Phoenix's grip tightened on her makeshift weapon, but Rusty gently touched her arm, his eyes filled with reassurance.
"Stay quiet, Nix," he whispered. "We'll slip by 'em."
They moved with the stealth of shadows, their every step calculated. But just as they were about to make their escape, a soft whimper reached their ears. It was a tiny, malnourished mutant pup, separated from the pack.
Phoenix's instincts told her to leave it, that it was too risky. But Rusty had other ideas. He knelt down, his voice soft and soothing, as he extended his hand toward the frightened creature. Miraculously, the pup didn't recoil in fear.
With gentle patience, Rustbucket coaxed the pup closer, whispering words of comfort. Phoenix watched in awe as the pup timidly approached him, its mistrust slowly melting away. In that moment, she saw the depth of Rusty’s compassion and the true nature of his spirit.
He scooped up the pup, cradling it in his arms. Phoenix couldn't help but smile, her heart swelling with affection for the red wolf who could tame even the wildest of souls.
"Look at you," Rusty cooed softly to the pup. "You're gonna be just fine, little one."
As they continued on their scavenging mission, Phoenix couldn't stop thinking about that moment. It was a simple act of kindness, but it spoke volumes. He had a way of seeing the good in the world, even when all seemed lost. That night, under the stars and in the face of danger, Phoenix realized why she loved him so deeply. It was because he had a heart big enough to hold onto hope in the darkest of times. A heart that hopefully would remain warm and innocent for the rest of his life.
Phoenix woke up some time later as someone wrenched the enormous steel door of the medical wing open. She heard the jingling of small tools and the shuffling of fabric. Then a hand laid onto her shoulder, squeezing gently.
“I will do my best to help your friend, but I cannot guarantee anything. We are low on supplies as it is,” the doctor assured.
In her groggy haze, Phoenix stood up and hefted her rucksack over her back. Before she left, however, she pressed a long kiss into Rusty’s matted, sweaty forehead.
“You’d better not die on me... I'll kick your ass if you do," she mumbled.
Dejectedly, Phoenix walked away, through the steel doors, and down the main corridor. The torches lining the walls had almost run out of fuel; their flames had almost completely extinguished. Phoenix groped her way through the dark to find her barracks: a large communal room lined with cots and shelves to hold the inhabitants’ miscellaneous belongings. Almost all of her barrack-mates had gone out that night, likely attending the community gala in the main courtyard. There, they would overindulge in ancient wine and mountains of food. The mere prospect of partaking in such an event disgusted Phoenix.
She sat on her bed, leaving her sack on a rusted hook tacked to the wall. Everything remained quiet. What a day, she thought. So much had happened that it seemed more like an entire month’s events had condensed into the space of twenty-four hours. Her watch read 12:56 in the morning.
Filled with a strange new motivation, Phoenix shed her overcoat and removed her shoes, then stepped into the small washroom assigned to the barrack. Someone had naturally left it in a state of disrepair, leaving Phoenix to toe around puddles of mysterious liquids on the floor. Upon reaching the showers, she disrobed, removing her tattered shirt, her pants, and her underwear and hanging them on the doorknob. While waiting for the water to warm up, Phoenix gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Jagged scars criss-crossed her body like national borders on a world map. The dark lines snaked down her arms, lengthwise across her abdomen, and around her face. She gawked at herself like she was some sort of freak show at the circus. She was a mess.
“That’s… me? ”
Phoenix approached the mirror cautiously, holding her hand out in front of her as if afraid some sort of monster would jump out and ensnare her in its claws. She touched the dirty glass and shivered.
“That’s really me,” Phoenix whispered. It had been so long since she could really look at herself beyond what she could perceive in her own vision. She couldn’t really see the wounds on her belly or the dark patches of fur where she was once burned. It was like looking at some alien creature from Mars, complete with red fur to boot. Phoenix hated the way her reflection’s movements matched her own. It felt so unnatural.
Breaking away from the mirror, Phoenix stepped into the shower and stood beneath the stream of hot water. The barely audible tick of her bathing timer invaded her thoughts, permeating into the deepest crevices of her brain. Time. The one thing she couldn’t find more of.
Palming the small bar of tallow soap she owned, Phoenix worked it between her hands until it turned to foam, rubbing it into her fur. The sensation of bubbles running down her arms, legs, belly, and tail was nothing short of euphoric, especially after a week of intensive foraging where having a shower was a luxury she could not afford. Phoenix stood there as her body relaxed into the same state of euphoria as her mind. No longer did she feel the constant ache of ancient wounds, nor the creaking of her overworked bones. For the first time in a long time, Phoenix felt truly at ease.
The shower timer had long since gone off, but nothing could break the state of calm the warm water had put Phoenix in. She stood there staring at the wall for quite some time before the water shut off. The tank had run dry. Irritated, Phoenix exited the shower and blow dried her entire body, standing before an industrial fan used to ventilate the barracks. Then she clothed herself and went to bed. The warmth of her bed sheets quickly carried her to a deep sleep.